Listen carefully, my Children. I am about to tell you of our world and the Prophecy that drapes itself over us, waiting until the single moment when we are tested once again. We live not in fear, but in attentiveness. Our vigilance is ever-present, and we wait for the time that we are to send forth our armies in order to keep what is ours.
Once upon a time, Humans knew of us. They worshipped us and loved us. Now, we are but relics; our cities are centers for research and investigations, and our way of life is buried within the ancient sands.
We live out of their reach, and even though we are not part of the daily life as we once were, we still choose to watch over them, protecting them and empowering them. We teach our ways to the young, for they are our hope. We, being millenniums old, cannot possibly interact with their lives as we once could. Now we have taken on our Birth Children, hoping to teach them the magic and power that we have known since time began. Some of them have the Talents, and those of us who also possess the Talents train them.
Two children have captured the attention of the Gods. One who has been born with an awesome ability of the Talents, and one who grasps the highest of Wisdom and Justice that any have ever seen. These two are my Daughters, Tabia and Siti, respectively. They are faithful learners and loving children. Tabia, the eldest, has been born with the Mark, and Siti has been given the special gift of Seeing. Both have been raised to protect our Kingdom, but this is not to be. Indeed, a much more crucial role awaits my Daughters.
In our world, we keep in mind the Prophecy. This calls for Humans and Immortals to be one in the Final Challenge. They must be of the strongest mind, heart, power and spirit. My Daughters have been learning of this since they were capable of understanding my word.
They still learn and train for the current time.
But for how long, no one can know.
Chapter One- Lessons and Destinies
Two young girls sat next to each other in the dimly lit dungeons, each in front of their own, thick leather book. The simple wooden table rubbed at their elbows and the shaky little stools offered no comfort.
“Tabia,” the youngest said pushing the straight black hair out of her face, “aren’t you finished yet? Mother said we can practice our Magic after we’re through.”
Tabia looked into her sister’s russet eyes and scowled, her own dark green ones narrowing. “No. I’m not. Honestly, Siti, learn to be patient,” she scolded as she looked back down towards her book.
Siti huffed and fidgeted with the candle in front of her. “I am patient. It’s just that . . . I don’t like it down here. All dark and cold . . . .”
“When the summer comes and you’re told to pick the fruit blossoms,” Tabia interjected softly, twirling a few strands of auburn hair idly, “you’ll wish you were down here. Remember how we get ill from the heat every year? And then old Ra comes and says something like ‘You must learn perseverance if you desire to harness the powers of greatness’ or something like that.”
Siti giggled at her sister’s impersonation of the highest of Gods. “Oh, he doesn’t sound like that, Tabia. Honestly, you make him sound like he has a bad head cold.”
Tabia shrugged. “I think he does. Who else would believe that picking smelly flowers in the middle of unbearable heat would bring us anything but a stroke? Something must be affecting him greatly, and a head cold it may be.”
“I do hope you’re not talking about our great God, my dears,” a soft voice reprimanded. Tabia looked up from her book and blushed slightly. A tall woman stood before them, a questioning look on her face. She was fairly thin with oval eyes that were so green they appeared to be black. One long fingered hand was placed firmly on her hip while another ran the length of the doorframe in front of her.
“Er . . . we weren’t, Mother. That is, I wasn’t but you know Siti; always unladylike.”
The woman entered and sat down in between the two girls, lightly kissing their foreheads. “Are you through, darlings? You’ll have your Magic lessons in nearly an hour, and there are still the necessary preparations beforehand.”
“Oh I’m ready, Mother,” Siti said smarmily, “but Tabia hasn’t finished yet.”
“Is that so?” their mother asked, as Tabia shot Siti an ugly look. “My, my, the only two students unable to make it would be the two Daughters of Bast. Now does that seem right?”
“Yes,” Tabia answered. “Let them train. We’re powerful enough to learn without Ptah’s help.”
Bast smiled. “That you are, my darling. Think of it as a way of showing off, however. Others are extremely jealous of your skills with Magic, Tabia. And your Wisdom has yet been matched by another student, dear Siti.”
Both girls smiled proudly at each other. Bast stood and walked towards the door. “Now put the books away for now. You can finish the proper lessons later, Tabia. I want you both in Ptah’s chambers in no more than half of an hour. Is this understood?”
Both girls sighed. “Yes, Mother.”
As Bast exited, Tabia and Siti stood and stretched. Tabia’s lanky form shifted a little as she rolled her stiff shoulders that she had let slouch for the three hours that they had been there. Her sister, who was habitual in her proper posture, rubbed at her knees a little. She was two inches shorter than her Tabia (who was quite tall to begin with) and more heavyset. Both girls had the same oval shaped eyes as their mother; though Tabia’s were naturally lined by extra thick lashes.
Siti placed her book on the shelf in front of them and picked up her candle. She waited for Tabia, and then walked out of the room, closing the thick wooden door behind she and her sister.
Both girls walked silently through the stony corridors, their vision very labored from the poor amount of light emitted by their candles.
“Siti,” Tabia said slowly, not looking away from the way ahead of her, “do you ever think about the Prophecy?”
Siti nodded. “Of course.”
“Do you know what it means?”
“I’m not sure,” Siti said. “I’ve often tried and failed to phrase it into simpler terms. It’s very difficult, though. ‘The Final Challenge shall take all that the chosen can offer, but still not be satisfied.’ How can we triumph if we can’t fulfill what has to be done, even with our all?”
Tabia nodded sadly. “It seems as if we are doomed to fail.”
“Of course not, Tabia,” Siti chided softly. “There is a way. A challenge of any kind is not impossible. Otherwise, it is not a challenge. There must be a way to overcome; it’s just hardest to find out what.”
*****
The girls traveled out of the dungeons and followed a set of stony stairs up through a door that led to the Garden of Gems. This was the center of their massive palace where they and other children lived and trained. The palace as a whole was fairly easy to get lost in, and many students had a difficult time remembering where classes were even after four years of living there.
Siti took a moment to look around and breathe in the thick perfume of the lilacs, lilies, roses, and other blooms that blossomed around them. “Isn’t this place Heaven,” she asked her sister. “Don’t you just wish you could stay here forever?”
Tabia crinkled her nose. “I hate flowers. I’d rather be practicing than sitting around looking at a bunch of plants.”
“You know, there’s more to being powerful than just power.”
Tabia raised an eyebrow at Siti. “Oh, really? I always assumed—being that the base word is ‘power’—that power was the only necessity.”
Siti scoffed. “Hardly. One must also be intelligent and patient. Otherwise your power is wasted because you have misused it, or made a serious misjudgment, or were too busy trying to show off that you completely blundered the action up.”
“Well that’s being successful.” Tabia corrected. “I was speaking about power alone. You don’t need intelligence and patience to have power, you just need them to utilize it to the maximum effect.”
Siti merely sighed. She stopped in front of a large burgundy door, but as she reached absently for the handle, Tabia grabbed her wrist.
“We haven’t followed through with the proper preparations, remember?”
She pulled out two blue stones from her pocket and handed one to Siti, who examined the single eye etched into the smooth face, a long bar just above the top of the pupil. “The Udjat? Again? When can I use the Ankh?” “The Ankh is the sign of Isis. It’s mine. Now shut up while I recite.”
Tabia grasped Siti’s hand and muttered a few inaudible words, then closed her eyes.
“Great Spirit of Magic and Energy, bestowed upon thy unworthy body and mind, fill thy heart with Purity and thy soul promised to you with Light.”
Tabia took a deep breath as she felt the energy flow through her veins and breath, right through her fingertips into Siti’s hands. Next to her, Siti gasped slightly.
When the sensation was over, both girls opened their eyes and let go of each other’s hand.
“We’re terribly sorry that we’re late, sir,” Siti said to the old God in front of her. “We got held up because my sister couldn’t read fast if her life depended on it . . . or at normal speed, for that matter.”
“Your sister takes her time, Siti,” Ptah said softly, looking over Siti with crystal blue eyes. His short form and hairless head made him appear feeble and aged, but his mind was sharper than a scythe. “In the end, her thorough behavior will award her great skill.”
Tabia stuck her tongue out at Siti, who blushed slightly. The girls took their places and waited for Ptah to instruct them to begin concentration on a new Magic.
However, it did not come.
He looked around at the small classroom of children blessed to the Gods. There seemed to be a soft wisp of pity clouding his eyes momentarily, but it was gone soon.
“How many of you children have ever met Setesh?” he asked simply.
There were a couple of mutters, but nobody raised their hands. Ptah nodded.
“Setesh lives in our palace, though he chooses to stay below, where nobody cares to venture. He hates to be bothered, and he is most certainly known for his bouts of anger. However . . . he may be one of the most powerful beings with the Talent, just below Tabia. This is not to say,” he added calmly, as Tabia smiled superiorly, “that he is no match for her. In regards to the Talent, knowledge is everything, and Setesh has most certainly acquired knowledge. He is violent and vengeful, but he is intelligent and cunning. That is a dangerous combination.”
The students all seemed to be of the same mind: what was the point to this warning? But Ptah did not elaborate. Instead he led the class into Magic, teaching them the beginning of complex Divination.
After the class was over, Tabia and Siti rose. Siti had a sense that she should ask Ptah what his intentions of mentioning their cousin, but decided it best to let Ptah decide when to tell.
She was walking to the door when Ptah spoke.
“It is very foolish, Siti, to go against your instinct when it is your gift.”
Siti stopped and turned, Tabia walking behind her. Both girls had been in each other’s presence since Siti’s birth, and neither could simply leave the other to themselves.
“Sir, I was curious . . . why did you mention Set?”
Ptah smiled and nodded. “Because, my dear, it is vital that you and your sister know this information. You are to go immediately and request his presence, then seek out Isis.”
Both Tabia and Siti looked as if Ptah had asked them to copy down all of the secrets of the universe into a notepad.
“We . . . Set . . . Isis . . . us?” babbled Tabia helplessly.
“In a rather incoherent sense, yes,” Ptah answered. “Just be polite and charming.”
“Yeah,” Tabia said with a scoff, “That way he’ll have a good laugh at us before he cuts us into thirteen pieces each. This sounds more and more like a task I want to rush into.”
Siti grabbed her sister’s sleeve. “Come on, Tabia,” she said with a defeated sigh at Ptah’s unflinching gaze. “We need to rehearse.”
Tabia gave one last rebellious glare towards Ptah and walked out, muttering about senility.
“Ra protect that girl,” Ptah said with a small smile. “Her mouth knows no boundaries.”
